Scotland -- History -- War of Independence, 1285-1371 -- Fiction
Murray rose from his seat as he ended, and walking the room in
agitation, did not perceive the confusion of his uncle, who, at once
overcome with conviction and fear, again ventured to speak: "It is too
sure you speak truth, Andrew; but what am I, or any other private
individual, that we should make ourselves a forlorn hope for the whole
nation? Will Baliol, who was the first to bow to the usurper, will he
thank us for losing our heads in resentment of his indignity? Bruce
himself, the rightful heir of the crown, leaves us to our fates, and
has become a courtier in England! For whom, then, should I adventure
my gray hairs, and the quiet of my home, to seek an uncertain liberty,
and to meet an almost certain death?"
"For Scotland, uncle," replied he; "just laws are her right. You are
her son; and if you do not make one in the grand attempt to rescue her
from the bloodhounds which tear her vitals, the guilt of parricide will
be on your soul! Think not, sir, to preserve your home, or even your
gray hairs, by hugging the chains by which you are bound. You are a
Scot, and that is sufficient to arm the enemy against your property and
life. Remember the fate of Lord Monteith! At the very time he was
beset by the parasites of Edward, and persuaded by their flatteries to
be altogether as an Englishman, in that very hour, when he had taken a
niece of Cressingham's to his arms, by her hands the vengeance of
Edward reached him-he fell!"
Murray saw that his uncle was struck, and that he trembled.
"But I am too insignificant, Andrew!"
"You are the brother of Lord Bothwell!" answered Murray, with all the
dignity of his father rising in his countenance. "His large
possessions made him a traitor in the eyes of the tyrant's
representatives. Cressingham, as treasurer for the crew, has already
sent his lieutenant to lord it in our paternal castle; and do not
deceive yourself in believing that some one of his officers will not
require the fertile fields of Drumshargard as a reward for his
services! No!-cheat not yourself with the idea that the brother of
Lord Bothwell will be too insignificant to share in the honor of
bearing a part in the confiscations of his country! Trust me, my
uncle, the forbearance of tyrants is not that of mercy, but of
convenience. When they need your wealth, or your lands, your
submission is forgotten, and a prison, or the ax, ready to give them
quiet possession."
Sir John Murray, though a timid and narrow-sighted man, now fully
comprehended his nephew's reasoning; and his fears taking a different
turn, he hastily declared his determination to set off immediately for
the Highlands. "In the morning, by daybreak," said he, "I will
commence my journey, and join my brother at Loch-awe; for I cannot
believe myself safe a moment, while so near the garrisons of the enemy."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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